In Which Howl Makes Ice Cream
by ThinkingCAPSLOCK
Summary: Fearing further temperature-related arguments with Michael, Howl decides to try and rectify the heated situation.


**Chapter in Which Howl Teaches Himself to Make Ice Cream**

Michael leaned back against the desk. His stool had no backing itself, of course, so whenever he wished to have something to lean against, he always had to turn and face Calcifer and use the edge of the desk as his support, uncomfortable though it was. Calcifer watched him intently from the grating.

"Why are you dripping?" he asked suspiciously. "I don't like it when people drip. You'd better not drip on me, you know!"

Michael mopped his brow with a handkerchief. "I'm not dripping, I'm sweating!"

"You're dripping and you're doing it all over the floor. Don't come near me until you stop it."

"I can't stop it! It's hot in here and you're no help."

"Go outside." Calcifer flared up threateningly. "Then you _can't_ drip on me."

"It's worse outside than in," Michael replied. He had long since grown used to Calcifer's threats. He knew the fire demon was bluffing. Well, he was usually bluffing. _Usually._

"That doesn't mean you're allowed to sit here and drip on me. Just wait until Howl comes back! He'll think you're trying to kill me. I'll tell him that. Just you wait!"

"He won't think I'm trying to kill you. I'll bet he's sweat—_dripping_ just as much as I am."

"Have you _met_ Howl?" Calcifer asked disdainfully. "Porthaven door! That must be him coming back. Ooh, you'll see." He crackled gleefully in the fireplace as he turned to watch the wheel spin to the appropriate colour. The door opened with a tinkle and Howl slipped in, his old (though well kept) acoustic guitar slung across his back.

"How did it go?" Michael asked.

Howl gave a wry smile. "She'll come around. They always do."

"If you say so," Michael replied. Howl glanced at him but said nothing, opting to instead put his guitar back in the corner of the room next to the bleached skull.

"Oh, I'm sure she'll soften," Howl said at last, tapping the skull. "Right, my old friend?" It chattered and he withdrew his hand rather quickly so as not to get bitten.

Michael frowned a little and narrowed his eyes. Howl looked quite cool, actually, now that he got a good look at him. He wasn't sweating at all. In fact, he looked positively refreshed!

"Howl…how warm is it outside?"

"Was it warm?" Howl paused in thought for a moment.

"I'm asking you. You were the one who went outside."

"Yes, that's right." Howl glanced out the window uselessly. "It doesn't seem like many people are on the streets."

"That Kingsbury, Howl. You just came from Porthaven."

"Did I? Yes, that's right."

Michael put his face in his palms. "Howl, I knew you were oblivious, but I don't think I never realized the extent of it until just now."

"I don't understand why you're so fixated on the temperature," Howl replied, tossing another log to Calcifer, who immediately began to gobble it loudly.

"Because it's damned hot, Howl, and you seem perfectly fine!" Michael snapped, undoing another button from his collar. "And while you're out gallivanting and stealing hearts, I'm stuck here with a _fire demon_. Do you know what's great for hot days? _Something that isn't a fire demon, Howl!_"

Howl looked up from stoking the fire. "Is it hot outside?"

Michael gave a great shout of exasperation, threw down his book and stormed to his room.

"What was that about?" Howl asked, turning back to Calcifer.

Calcifer made a noncommittal noise between gobbles. "It's probably because he's dripping. Humans are never happy when they're dripping. It makes me wonder why they even bother."

"He was dripping, you say?" Howl pulled up his sleeves. He felt quite cool, really. "Is it really that warm? I hadn't noticed a change in temperature at all."

"You're asking the wrong demon," Calcifer replied. "The temperature is always the same when you're made of fire."

"I suppose you're right. Perhaps I enchanted the suit? Is that why I didn't feel it? I've done that by accident a few times, you know." Howl glanced down at the blue and silver suit. It _looked_ cool, of course, but that was a whole other meaning of the word.

"Maybe it's because you're heartless," Calcifer flickered.

"Very funny," Howl replied, straightening up and returning to the desk. "Then I shan't give you any eggshells when we eat dinner."

"No, no!" Calcifer leaned out of the grating. "I take it back! I take it back! Come on, Howl, be nice! Play fair!"

"A wizard is hardly fair, Calcifer," Howl replied. "And…I am _heartless_, as you said."

"I take it back! I said I take it back! Hooowwwllll," Calcifer moaned.

Howl sighed. "Very well, I will give you the eggshells."

"You're a saint, Howl!" Calcifer crackled. "A saint!"  
>"I am incredibly wonderful, yes," Howl agreed. "But it seems our friend Michael doesn't seem to think so at the moment. I wonder if there's a way we could cheer him?"<p>

"Do whatever you want," Calcifer said, "as long as it's away from me."

Howl picked up a book and began leafing through it. If only he could find a good spell for changing the weather, or at least one that could conjure cool breeze!

Howl had nearly emptied half of his bookshelf by the time he found something that looked fitting. He smiled, glancing through the list of items necessary to make it. What luck! He had most of the ingredients already. "Calcifer, I'm going out."

"Do I get eggshells?" Calcifer perked up, his red eyes flickering with excitement.

"Not yet. I'm going to the store."

"To buy eggs?"

"No, we have those." Howl picked up a loose stone from the fireplace and pulled out a hefty bag of coins. Michael had long ago bullied Howl into letting him take over responsibility for the finances (he had said Howl wasn't fit for it—how absurd! Who else would buy the silver pocket watches that only counted planets and not time, or the gilded squid doorknockers that squirted real ink when mishandled if not for Howl?), but Howl had made sure to keep his own stash for times like these. In fact, he had begun to find ways to get around Michael's absurd rules about only buying "necessary" things and only spending an "appropriate" amount of money for each item. Soon, Howl would be able to steal the position back from Michael once and for all.

But not yet. So Howl kept his stash and it was from this stash that he produced three large gold coins. Three should be sufficient, he thought.

Without another look back to Calcifer, he pranced out the door, sleeves swishing at his sides, silver-blue-silver-blue.

It was getting on into the evening by the time Howl returned. Michael had still not come down from his room—sulking, Howl supposed. So it was alone that Howl began work on the spell. He had never actually tried this particular spell before, though he supposed it looked rather easy. It didn't even require an incantation! Though it did require some strange apparatus he wasn't sure he owned. Nonetheless, with great ingenuity on his part, he managed to create something vaguely similar with a bucket and the skull and several other things he had lying around. Perfect!

It was time to begin.

"MIIICHAEELLLL!" Howl screamed. "MIIIICHAEEELLL!"

Michael looked up from his book, scowling. "What is it _now_, Howl?"

"Michael, help me, they're coming for meee!"

"If it's the aunt of some jilted lover of yours, I don't want any part in it!" Michael shouted back. The aunts were the worst. They hid swords in their canes and carried rolling pins at all hours of the day.

"No, Michael, it's not—it's—_for the love of Sulliman, get down here immediately!_"

Michael sighed and slammed his book shut, throwing it across the bed hard enough that it skittered across the sheets and fell to the floor with a loud _thwap!_ He went down the stairs, expecting to find Howl fretting and moaning over some ridiculously _menial_ problem and—

"WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO, HOWL?"Michael shouted. "What-what is that even? WHAT DID YOU DO?"

"I made Eye Scream! I made Eye Scream!" Howl sobbed, cowering in the corner behind a stool. "I made Eye Scream and it's horrible and it's coming for meee!"

"Why is it coming for you? Why did you even make it?" Michael exclaimed.

"It knows I created it, Michael! _It knows_!" Howl made strange motions with his hands, but that only slowed the blobby, melting monster down a little.

"What is Eye Scream? How do we kill it?" Michael called.

"I don't know! I don't know! I've never tried before! It looked so normal, Michael! It looked so normal and I didn't know how it would help so I started to add some spells and—"

"It's dripping on meeee," Calcifer cried. "Howl, do something, it's dripping all over me! It's wet and gross and it's making the logs sticky and it smells like eggs (but not the good kind of eggs) and it's horrible and—"

"Eggs?" Michael froze. "Did you say eggs, Calcifer?"

"Does it matter what I said? Somebody, stop it!"

The blobby monster had turned and was now sloshing towards Michael, great blue and green footprints pooling on the floor as it lurched. Michael dashed nimbly around it, snatching up the spell from the table as he passed. He leapt over and sidled in beside Howl.

"Don't come over here!" Howl protested, trying to push him away. "It'll _definitely_ come over here if you're here, too!"

"Tough!" Michael snapped. He glanced over the paper. "Howl, this isn't a spell, it's a recipe! How did you not realize that?"

"It was in a spellbook!"

"It was in a _recipe_ book, Howl, I can see the inscription on the top of the page!"

Howl looked over. "…oh." He frowned. "It seems I've made an error."

"You THINK?" Calcifer shrieked, flaring up the chimney as the monster changed its trajectory to the fireplace. "Don't get near me, you melty mess! I'll burn you!" But, try as he might, Calcifer was unable to burn or even deter the creature.

"You said it was Eye Scream, right, Howl?"

"I did say that, I believe. Isn't that what it is?"

"Howl, it's ice cream."

"But it's got eyes and it's screaming! It's definitely 'Eye Scream'."

"Let me rephrase that—it _was_ ice cream, until you put some sort of stupid spell on it and it became sentient!"

Howl paused again. "Yes, that sounds about right."

Michael moaned. "_Howl_…"

"YOUR CHIT-CHAT IS ALL WELL AND GOOD, BUT WOULD SOMEONE PLEASE COME OVER HERE AND PERHAPS KEEP IT FROM EXTINGUISHING ME?" Calcifer roared. He now filled the entire fireplace, trembling wildly as great blobs of gooey green fell on him.

"If it's a recipe, that means it's edible, right?" Howl asked, watching as the monster tormented Calcifer. He was calmer now that he knew he wasn't the only one in danger.

"Yes," Michael said cautiously. "I wouldn't eat it if I were you, though."

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of eating it," Howl said. "_You're_ the one who will eat it."

"Howl, are you crazy? Why would I _ever_ eat something like—"

"Because I made it for you."

"You _what_?"

"I made it for you," Howl said simply. "You were hot and I was cold and I thought you might like something cold. I can't make you like me because I'm really not sure what I actually did, so I did the next best thing and made you Eye Scream."

"Howl, that's stupid."

"It's not stupid," Howl said. "I thought you'd want it."

"I don't want _that_, at any rate."

"Well, no, I see that now." Howl shook his head. He then beamed at Michael and patted him on the shoulder. "Well, boy, chop-chop! It wouldn't do any good to eat it while it's liquidy!"

"_Howl, I am not going to eat your damned sentient ice cream monster just because you can't be arsed to—_"

Howl stared at him with his great glassy blue eyes, still grinning his idiot's grin. "You don't understand, Michael. _I made it just for you._"

Michael let out a sob. He knew he was never, ever, _ever_ going to be able to face an ice cream cone again.


End file.
